


the calm before the storm

by welfarenewsies (keroseneparadise)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: A series of soliloquies basically, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29859021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keroseneparadise/pseuds/welfarenewsies
Summary: It's nearly the 16th; nearly time for the festival. Nearly time for that first step across the threshold.He isn't scared. He should be. He isn't.Tommy goes for a walk and runs into someone he didn't exactly want to see.
Relationships: And others but im lazy, Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit
Kudos: 20





	the calm before the storm

The festivals' arrival sat on his shoulders like a great weight. It was going to be a disaster.  
Everything up to this point has been disastrous, of course, but the festival cemented this growing dread that had been lurking in his mind since election day. Every individual, terrible factor that had been building was to be collected there, with his president- his _brother_ \- chief among them.  
Technoblade, Dream, they had each other's backs now, apparently. Tommy scowled. Well, good for them.

There wasn't much daylight left. It would be bad if he stayed out too late.  
(Wilbur fret over shit like that, before, always trying to keep tabs, it used to be annoying but slowly Tommy was able to get away with more and more, was he getting older or was Wilbur changing?  
God, of course Wilbur was changing. He can't keep thinking about it.)  
Directly above him the sky began to turn navy, but westward shades of purple were still visible; it was twilight, with dusk-fast approaching, yet the sun had yet to disappear. The trees were just obscuring it. There was a pull at his chest.

There was no real motivator for his venture outside. The idea was to lay low, collect their bearings and prepare. But though he'd scarcely admit it, Tommy had grown restless. The pit, the tower, it was busywork, and he was finished, and now he was alone with his mind.  
It was unwise to wander without reason, but apparently the vague excuse of "scouting" was enough to satisfy Will. If he cared at all, anymore. Niki was the only adult who hadn't…

She was so hesitant with him lately. As if afraid he might crack if she applied too much pressure. What bullshit.  
The sun was setting.  
TommyInnit didn't dig back into their base. He didn't go home.  
"Home." Hah. Is that what Pogtopia was?  


He wanted to see it from above. That's all.  
It wasn't too much to ask, Hell it was trivial before, just climbing one of L'manbergs great pillars and staring straight-on. But now, a technical outlaw, these things weren't so simple. The surrounding area was nothing but forest.  
Their base was built into a tall hill, too steep to traverse for the uninitiated, but it was a beast he'd grown to understand.  
With a sigh, he got to climbing. It'd be good to let out some energy, anyways.  


Heaving himself to the top, wind smacked Tommys face. The stinging sensation brought tears to his eyes. Winter was on its way.  
Their yellow star lay across the horizon, bleeding bright shades of crimson that forced him to squint. It was emboldening; nostalgic.  
Once upon a time, atop a hot dog van, Wilbur would sit with the boy and stare in awe at the sky's natural beauty. Cracking jokes, playing dumb, the like. Just the two of them against the world.  
Yeah, right.  


The thought made him chuckle. It made his heart ache like something had been lodged deep inside it, and it was a pain he couldn't admit, a pain that if spoken aloud became too real to handle.  
It felt like, now more than ever, Wilbur was already gone and there was nothing he could do. His Wilbur, at least.  
A very dark, bitter part of Tommy wondered if Wilbur would've kept it together for his "son." Wondered if maybe they were all just fed up with him, not the fight for L'manberg. The very same part of him ensured he'd never truly be calm.  
It felt so pathetic. Was everything a lie?  


Perhaps it'd be more productive to ask the TNT not to explode than to try changing Wilbur Soots mind. The man was deranged; he was completely gone. He was Tommy's brother. Leader. Whatever.  
The most ironic, most hypocritical part of it was that everything Tommy peached and believed were things Wilbur had told him. Christ, forget being president, believing in L'manberg was the core of their small group! Believing in freedom. In a place where even jokes like them could be something.  
Bullshit, all of it. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  


There was rustling in the bushes. It was light, but just too intense to be the wind.  
A gazelle having spotted something dangerous in the grass, Tommy lurched to find the source, hand immediately twitching for his sword. Silence.  
His brow furrowed.  
"Fuck off!" He barked, "If you want me come and get me, pussy."  
There was a ringing sensation in his ears, accompanied by a headache. Was there no place he could find peace?

From the shadows emerged a swaying tail. The voice, accent heavy, acknowledged him with nervous intonation,  
"Woah there, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."  
Tommy's face screwed up, still ready to draw his weapon at a moment's notice.  
Never throw the first punch…. Wilbur had always been clear about that, though it wasn't a rule he was fond of.  
The figure simply stood, hands shoved in his pockets, feigning mature nonchalance despite everything.  
"What're you doing here, Fundy?"  
He cracked cracked a smile, shifting his weight,  
"I could ask you the same thing."  


Tommy felt his face redden, riddled with embarrassment for having been caught in the midst of something so sentimental. Especially right next to their base- shit. Instead of bothering with a lie, he went straight for hostility,  
"You're the one creeping around, jumping out at me and shit. You first."  
Fundy sighed, slinking over to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Tommy. He raised a black paw, shielding his vision, a smile glued to his face.  
Reluctantly, Tommy crossed his arms and returned to watching, purposefully side-stepping to put more distance between them.  


" _Weelll_ ," Fundy drawled, a touch of humor in his voice, "I happened to spot you shimmying up this hill during my- erhm. Rounds. In the forest."  
Tommy made no attempt to hide his suspicion, to which Fundy only shrugged.  
"You don't have to believe me. I just can't stand the city, sometimes. Either way, I'm not here to kill you."  
Tommy's gut reaction was to fight before the story proved false, but he remained still. Fundy had the means to kill him, especially before. So why wouldn't he…?  


"And what for, huh? You've got no reason to keep me alive."  
Sparing a glance, Fundy flinched when met with Tommy's intense glare. Then, as if on the same side again, Fundy laughed a good-natured laugh.  
"Don't look at me like that, eh? I'm off-duty. Old times sake, whatever. Were it not such a beautiful day maybe I would kill you, but I guess you're in luck!"  
Indignance flared its nostrils in Tommys chest. Hadn't he just said he was doing his rounds? He clenched his teeth and remained silent, standing with taught shoulders as darkness settled in. What was going on?  


The traitor procured a torchlight and pitched it into the ground, sitting down near the space it illuminated in a lackadaisical manner.  
"So how's pops doing?"  
Tommy flinched, caught off guard. Awkwardly sitting criss-cross in the grass, he beratated himself for not just bolting. He wasn't at gunpoint. Was he going soft or some shit?  
Old times sake….  
Heaving in exhaustion, Tommy flopped back into the grass to stare at what stars were visible. Only the brightest, this early.  
"Pretty shit, Wilbur is. He's doing fucking, just- just awful. Which 'm sure you're glad to hear."  


Arms folding behind his head, the sleek canine reclined as well.  
"Maybe." There was a beat of tense, heavy silence. Then:  
"Do you love him still, Tommy?"  
The question was weightlessy presented, sounding almost disinterested. Tommy sat up straight on impulse, surprised and affronted and confused with himself when the knee-jerk answer wasn't yes.  
"I mean obviously I love Wilbur. He's like family, and didn't completely betray me like you and…" He trailed off abruptly, Tubbo's name not quite reaching his lips. What was up today? Christ.  


A deep exhale escaped him.  
"You can be mad at him, you know? Not trying to coerce you to the dark side or whatever, but look where nothing but 'yes Mr. President Soot' got us." Fundy sat straight, scooting towards the boy and gesturing to their surroundings. Tommy sneered in response, warningly, but Fundy went on without acknowledgement.  
"You've pretty much just been following his orders, so I-"  
The teen flash-stepped into a standing position, sword drawn and pinning the kitsunes face with practiced agility. Fundy might've been stacked, had back-up, whatever, but one of them was a trained soldier. And if this was to be a fight, Tommy intended for it to be on his terms.  
"You're getting awful close there bud." He spat, venomously.

Fundy gawked for a moment, shaking his head. He'd been getting too "friendly" for Tommy's tastes, the half-extended paw headed straight for his neck.  
Frowning, the furry hostage quirked his head,  
"You were crying."  
"What do you-" He raised a hand to his face. His cheek was wet. When- why-  
This didn't make sense. He wasn't even sad!  
His attention returned to Fundy, who remained still on the ground- what with being threatened and all. Regaining his tense composure, Tommy shook his head,  
"Nevermind that! Why the hell'd you try an' attack me?"  
"Attack you?" Fundy appeared nonplussed, ear twitching, "I was gonna pat your shoulder, man!"  


Clenching his eyes shut, Tommy turned away. The stabbing pain in his head grew worse, _louder_. What the hell was wrong with him? What's going on with Fundy?  
The orange fur-ball had risen to his feet, but moved no further; Tommy would have heard it. The longer it went on silently, the more he just wanted him to go away already. What was the point of this? Gaining his trust? It just made no sense. ''Pat his shoulder-''  
Bullshit. Freaking out wasn't exactly unwarranted, all things considered!  


Fundy cleared his throat.  
"Sorry. Again. I know you're, uh, on edge and stuff."  
A step forward.  
"Listen, Tommy you- I mean, fuck, you think it doesn't bother me either? Wilbur… you're not the only person that he fucked with."  
Tommy hunched his shoulders. Another step.  
"Don't say shit like that about Wilbur, you don't know anything-"  
Another step, two in succession,  
"-he's my dad!"  
Annoyance crept into Fundys' voice, making his words morph into snarls. Finally, he'd gotten a rise out of him! Everyone gives in, eventually, and turns to anger. Tommy knows he just can't be dealt with any other way, a self-awareness he's sure no one _thinks_ he has.  
Of course, it doesn't do him much good when he still speaks without thinking.

"Really? Because he trusted me! Lead me to battle, expected discipline, and you on the other hand-"  
Tommy cut himself off in realization, spinning around. He came face-to-face with Fundy, who'd stopped to stare dumbly. Stumbling back a few paces, Tommy tripped on his words.  
It wasn't like he didn't mean it, but at the same time-  
Unsurprisingly, he then tripped on his feet, retreating more and finding air where there should have been ground.  


He yelped, teetering for his life, Fundy ducking forward to shove him off-  
"Be careful, dumbass."  
-and grabbing the boy by his wrist, pulling him up to safety.  
Staggering forward, Tommy let his sword clatter, despising the way his body shook as Fundy held him upright. It was like hugging a big, anthropomorphic dog. Certainly not "big man" behavior, but he was too shell-shocked to care in the moment.

Once the moment passed and he remembered himself, Tommy nearly choked on himself struggling away. Fundy didn't even resist, letting him retrieve his sword and back away, slowly.  
" _Get outta here, man_. We ain't friends. You chose your side; I'm with Wilbur, no matter what." Below his breath, he muttered:  
"Some son you are."  
There was a look of something like disappointment on the fox's face, but he quickly replaced it with a sly little smirk.  
"The festival is coming up, y'know," Fundy turned to leave.  
"Don't be late."

**Author's Note:**

> This is really old.... I found this in ny drafts and decided to just finish it for shits and giggles LOL.


End file.
